popcorn skies

Today was beautiful. I thought the skidding clouds looked like popcorn flung upward, and that nothing could be nicer than this. He burnt his cheeks, I my arms, and the sun rolled round the azure sky. I liked the winter grass I twisted in my fingers, half old, half new, the fresh little blades the first sign of spring. Shadows rotated and rose to the fading sky, and the mountains burned pink then gold to grey. I can still feel the sun in my skin.